Robots at Wal-Mart
by CrimsonStrawberry17
Summary: Bakura and Marik encounter a robot in a Wal-Mart in the midst of a desert. One-shot.


AN: This is something completely random and bizarre I came up with in two in the morning when I couldn't sleep. I have no idea where this came from. I hope you at least get a laugh out of it.

Warning: Three pages of idiotic pointlessness from a fluffy villain and his accomplice.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, and I do not own Wal-Mart.

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_Robots at Wal-Mart_

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There's a saying that one can find a Wal-Mart anywhere, even in the midst of a desert. It just so happens that one afternoon, not far from the entrance of the Tomb-Keeper's secret lair, Marik and Bakura discovered such a monstrosity.

"Uh, was this here yesterday?" Bakura wondered, staring at the blue and white supermarket that, for some reason he could not conceive, was sitting in the midst of the Sahara desert, miles away from any sort of civilization. Except for the Tomb-Keepers, that is.

"I don't think so," Marik answered, giving the building an odd look. He was sure his clan would have noticed such a large anomaly so close to the Pharaoh's resting place. "Should we . . . go inside?"

"Why not? I bet they got air-conditioning." Something the Tomb-Keepers were sorely lacking, Bakura thought with annoyance. Ah, the wonders of modern technology. A shame the Ishtars didn't believe in modern conveniences.

And so, the hapless pair walked right into a deadly trap of their greatest archenemy . . .

No. Not really.

They just walked right in through the electronic sliding doors and were met by the cool breath of mankind's greatest invention – air conditioning. Oh, and a perky blonde woman with breasts the size of melons.

"What the? How did you get here? Did you get flown in on a plane or something?" Bakura demanded. There was nobody but tomb keepers this far out in the desert!

"Toy planes may be found on aisle seven," the busty woman chirped cheerfully.

"Uh, what?" Marik gave her a questioning look. They hadn't asked for any toy planes.

"Toy planes may be found on aisle seven," the blonde repeated.

"Yeah, we got that, you idiot," Bakura growled.

"Thank you, sir, you are too kind."

Was this woman mental?

"You know, her voice kinda sounds mechanic, like a robot," Marik muttered.

"Thank you sir, you are too kind."

"Yeah. She even talks like everything she says has been programmed into her," Bakura agreed.

"Thank you sir, you are too kind."

"Do you think . . . ?" Marik asked.

"Possibly," Bakura said.

"Only one way to find out." Marik reached into his pants and pulled out a pair of scissors.

Bakura gave him a funny look. "What the fuck were you doing with a pair of scissors in your boxers?" On second thought, he didn't think he wanted to know. Marik was rather strange sometimes . . .

"Briefs, actually. Ishizu told me not to run with scissors in my hands," Marik explained, shrugging.

"So you stuck them down your pants?" _How did _that _make any sense?_ Bakura thought incredulously.

" . . . Yes?" Marik asked, wondering if there was a point to all this.

"Okay . . ." Bakura decided to forget about the previous location of the scissors and get to the point at hand. "So what exactly are you planning to do with the scissors?"

"This!" Marik jabbed the pointy end into the perky blonde's neck. She fell backwards with a loud thud, wires tearing loose from the gaping hole in her neck.

"Huh . . . she really was a robot," Bakura muttered. "But wouldn't it have been easier just to use a knife?" Bakura pulled out one of his many knives and waved it in front of Marik's face for emphasis.

Marik shrugged.

"Tha- you – si – you – too kin–" the blonde warbled, sparks shooting from her neck.

"Shut up, Blondie, we weren't talking to you!" Marik stuck his tongue out at the dying robot.

"You know, if she had been real, you would have had a lot of explaining to do to your sister," Bakura commented offhandedly.

Marik paled. "Let's just, not mention this to her, okay?"

Bakura shrugged. He wasn't promising anything.

* * *

Two weeks later, Bakura found himself standing outside an airport in the land of the free as Marik waved down a taxi.

"Marik, is there a reason you've dragged me all the way to America?"

"We . . . are going to Wal-Mart!" Marik announced dramatically.

"WHAT!?" Bakura demanded.

"I have to know!"

"Know what!?"

"I have to know if everyone who works at Wal-Mart is a . . ." Marik glanced furtively around, "robot!" he whispered conspiringly.

"So you dragged me all the way to _Texas_? There are Wal-Marts everywhere in this frigging country!"

"It's hot here," Marik answered.

Bakura could not believe the stupidity of the other. Maybe all blondes really _were_ stupid. "It's _January_."

"So?" Marik glanced at him curiously.

"So I'm standing in a foot of snow wearing shorts and sandals, you asshole!" He had been wondering why Marik had been wearing a parka when they got on the plane. Which reminded him . . . he needed to remember to strangle Marik. The bastard had told him they were flying to Japan for a dueling tournament! Otherwise he would never had gotten on the damn plane.

"All right, fluffy! Here's the plan!" Marik declared, as though he hadn't heard a word Bakura had said. "We're going to go in there, find the first perky blonde with breasts the size of melons and stab her with my trusty scissors to see if she's real!"

"Fine . . ." Bakura jammed his fingers under his arms. Anything was better than standing out in the wet snow having his toes frozen stiff.

Forty minutes later, after a series of events which included getting kicked out of their taxi since Marik _conveniently_ forgot that the currency in America was different from Egypt's, forcing them to walk the rest of the way from the airport, Marik and Bakura had finally arrived at Wal-Mart. They took one step inside its sliding glass doors and found themselves standing in front of a petite brunette wearing a blue vest pinned with a smiley face, with the words **How May I Help You?** on the back of it.

"Well, she's not a perky blonde, and breasts are kinda small, but she does work here," Bakura muttered.

The Wal-Mart employee gave them funny looks. "May I help you with something, sir?"

"Again with the sirs," Marik said suspiciously, and then turned to Bakura. "So should I stab in her neck like last time, or should I try stabbing her in the arm or something this time?"

The girl paled. "OFFICER!"

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Hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review. I'd love to know what you thought of this.


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